


two of a kind (working on a full house)

by FullmetalChords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Knock Yuuri Up Week, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: Victor is still patting Yuuri’s belly, his palm warm and comforting. “I dreamed about meeting them again last night. It was more vivid this time.” He moves his hand to his own baby bump now, massaging gentle circles with the heel of his palm. “They were so beautiful, playing in the sand on the beach. The girl had dark hair, and I thought… ‘Ah, I hope she has Yuuri’s eyes, too.’”Victor’s excitement, his enthusiasm, is contagious, and Yuuri finds himself smiling too. He reaches under Victor’s loose top, a flowing pink tunic that saysI don’t think you’re ready for this belly, and touches the bare skin of his mate’s stomach.“I hope she has your smile,” he admits, and he’s rewarded with a radiant smile from Victor and the barest flutter of a kick against his palm.--Yuuri and Victor prepare to welcome their children to the world.





	two of a kind (working on a full house)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seventhstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/gifts).



> Written for day 4 (free day) of [Knock Yuuri Up Week](https://knockyuuriupweek.tumblr.com/promptsandrules). 
> 
> I... have no excuse for this? Any of this?? I don't really read a/b/o or mpreg, but I really wanted nurturing soft maternity Victuuri and so here we are. Wanted to post this on anon but then I couldn't, so whatever, I'll own my shame. 
> 
> blame [seventhstar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar). Also, go read her o/o pregnancy fics.

Most mornings, Yuuri will enter the kitchen finding Victor talking to his stomach.

“That’s right, I know you love apples,” he hears Victor cooing in Russian on this particular morning, rubbing a hand over the stretched skin of his abdomen while he holds a half-eaten apple in the other hand. “Just can’t keep from dancing whenever I eat one, can you?”

Yuuri feels the all-too-familiar fluttering of movement beneath his own ribs, the child inside him stirring at the sound of Victor’s voice, and he winces, massaging his swollen belly. Victor wears pregnancy so beautifully, floating around their newly-purchased house in Hasetsu like some kind of barefoot fertility goddess. All he’s really missing is a flower crown to complete his transformation into Gaia.

Meanwhile Yuuri is _extremely_ aware of his own swollen ankles, his new collection of stretch marks, the way his center of balance has shifted so extremely. If a doctor let him set foot on the ice in his condition, he has no doubt he’d fall immediately on his ass. And that’s the best-case scenario.

“Yuuri, darling!” Victor’s coos draw him out of his head, and he reacts just in time to receive Victor’s good morning kiss, Victor’s bump rubbing against his own. “Ohayou, my love.” He squats down to address Yuuri’s belly. “And good morning to you too, Twizzle. Did you sleep well?”

He kisses Yuuri’s belly over his baggy sleep shirt, a well-worn number that reads _We think it’s a puppy._ (Yuuri has worn it almost every night since he started showing.) Victor keeps touching Yuuri, running the inside of his wrist over the swell, to mark Yuuri’s child as his. He’s done this every morning since they discovered they were pregnant, and still Yuuri blushes every single time.

“You’re getting too big to keep crouching like that,” he scolds, taking both Victor’s hands to help him back to his feet. “Soon I’m not going to be able to help you back up, either.”

Victor just beams, still touching Yuuri’s belly in wonder.

“I know,” he purrs. “I’m getting _huge_. And you’re just getting more beautiful.”

“Pffff.” But Yuuri’s blushing. He knows that for the past seven and a half months, he’s been a trash monster. Hit with dreadful morning sickness for the first three months, then blowing up like a balloon until he barely recognizes his own reflection. Yet somehow, Victor has stuck around.

Victor is still patting Yuuri’s belly, his palm warm and comforting. “I dreamed about meeting them again last night. It was more vivid this time.” He moves his hand to his own baby bump now, massaging gentle circles with the heel of his palm. “They were so beautiful, playing in the sand on the beach. The girl had dark hair, and I thought… ‘Ah, I hope she has Yuuri’s eyes, too.’”

Victor’s excitement, his enthusiasm, is contagious, and Yuuri finds himself smiling too. He reaches under Victor’s loose top, a flowing pink tunic that says _I don’t think you’re ready for this belly_ , and touches the bare skin of his mate’s stomach.

“I hope she has your smile,” he admits, and he’s rewarded with a radiant smile from Victor and the barest flutter of a kick against his palm.

\--

Even before he’d presented as an omega, Yuuri used to dream of being pregnant with Victor Nikiforov’s child.

As a preteen with only scant knowledge of how omegan biology worked, he used to run a hand over the bit of baby pudge at his waist and wonder what it might be like to have a baby growing inside him,. To have Victor Nikiforov, the angel from his walls, look at him and touch him and kiss him, and tell him how beautiful he was, all round and full with his child.

Yuuri hadn’t known that Victor was an omega, too, until Victor had his first heat in Hasetsu, a few months into their coaching relationship. Victor’s status wasn’t exactly a secret; it was simply, Victor had explained, that most people assumed he was an alpha because he was a competitive world-class athlete, and sometimes Victor found it too tiresome to correct them. But still, that first heat… it had been torture for them both. Yuuri, who had spent Victor’s time in Hasetsu rationalizing away his feelings for his coach, could smell Victor as he went through his heat, could hear his idol moaning his name, begging for Yuuri to fill him up.

Yuuri had spent most of that particular heat in his own bed, furiously riding his favorite dildo, stifling his own desperate cries for Victor.

When they’d finally overcome their shyness, finally taking those steps to become one another’s mates, children had been something they both immediately agreed would be part of their future someday. And Yuuri had always assumed, as the younger and smaller of them, that he would be the one to carry any child of theirs. It was something he’d caught himself dreaming of on more than one occasion. The desire to have part of Victor living inside him, to give Victor the gift of a child, had been too strong for him to resist even decades after he’d abandoned his youthful fantasy.

Hearing that Victor longed for the same, to carry and nurture a piece of _Yuuri_ inside him, had been one of the most welcome surprises of their marriage.

It had been hard, at first. Undergoing expensive fertility treatments to heighten their sperm count, soothing Victor’s worries at night when he shared his distress about thirty-five being much too old to carry a healthy child to term. Admitting to one another their old, private fears that the old wives’ tales about omega-omega pregnancies might be true, that they were risking the health of their future children with their own stubborn wish to conceive without a donor.

And that was to say nothing about the way their neighbors in St. Petersburg had reacted when he and Victor had fallen pregnant at the same time. Yuuri had lost count of the number of times he and Victor had gone out to the supermarket, hand in hand, only to be bombarded with nosy neighbors who kept touching him and Victor without permission, making comments about how _proud_ and _excited_ their alphas must be to become parents, or how _nice_ it must be to have the support of your friend who’d gotten pregnant at the same time.

Yuuri knows relationships between two omegas are still relatively rare worldwide, and especially in Russia. But that makes it no less frustrating.

Since moving back to Hasetsu, wanting to be closer to Yuuri’s family when the babies were born, the comments and looks have been much less frequent, since the residents of the small town are much more familiar with Victor and Yuuri. But there were always the more traditional neighbors who want to know what had happened to Yuuri’s alpha, or who warn them that the babies would be sickly without a “proper” sire to bond with.

Yuuri refuses to respond to comments like this, and Victor just smiles at the perpetrators even wider; but still, neither of them can deny that there are still days when the stress starts to get to them.

Today is one such day, as the two of them head to their new obstetrician in Hasetsu for their 34 week checkup. Yuuri is laid out on the examination table, gripping Victor’s hand as the ultrasound technician squeezes cold gel onto Yuuri’s bare stomach.

“I just want to know if something’s wrong,” Yuuri says to the tech, who has placed her wand onto his stomach, moving it around so she can get a clear measurement of their son’s head. “I’ve been really worried. He hasn’t moved around a lot today, and I’ve kind of had a stitch in my side—“

“That’s all perfectly normal,” the technician assures him, and holds the wand still so that he and Victor can get a good look at the baby. Victor gasps, clinging to Yuuri’s hand even tighter.

“Awwww, Yuuri, look,” he coos, in that same high tone of voice Victor uses whenever the babies come up in conversation, or he sees a tiny pair of shoes in the stores, or he putters around the nursery holding up all the little outfits and blankets and toys that their babies will soon be using. “He’s sucking his thumb.”

The by-now familiar silhouette is clearly visible on the monitor, knees folded up to the chest, a tiny fist resting near the baby’s mouth. Yuuri feels the baby stretch; as he does, the image on the screen changes, one arm reaching over the head. Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand.

“He’s okay,” he breathes, reassuring himself. “You’re okay,” he repeats, addressing the child inside him. “Everything’s okay.” He breathes in deep, catching a hint of Victor’s scent on the wind, which reassures him. Victor reaches over to stroke Yuuri’s hair, and he feels himself relaxing further. After a few moments, the tech turns to Victor, smiling politely.

“Your turn?”

“In a minute.” Victor leans in close to Yuuri, his cheek just resting against his as they face the monitor together. “Look,” he says in a hushed voice meant only for Yuuri. “That’s our boy.”

“That’s our boy,” Yuuri echoes, feeling tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Victor presses a warm kiss to his temple, then pats his own stomach.

“And that’s your brother,” he informs his bump. “Be nice to him once you both get here, okay?”

Yuuri strokes Victor’s stomach, too, feeling so full he might burst.

—

Victor had gotten it into his head when they’d first gotten pregnant that it was of _dire importance_ for them to talk to one another’s baby bumps, so that his baby might know Yuuri’s voice and vice versa.

“I won’t have Swizzle born without knowing the sound of your voice, Yuuri,” he’d said all those months ago, pointing meaningfully at his then-much-flatter stomach. “How else will she know you’re her Touchan?”

Yuuri had blinked. “Um… ‘Swizzle’?”

“Yeah,” Victor had purred, still running a hand over a bump that, back then, had yet to materialize. “My mother called me ‘Hubcap’ before I was born. I was thinking we could nickname them after skating moves. You can call yours ‘Twizzle’! Then they’ll match!”

“As long as we come up with actual names at some point.”

(They still haven’t, but they’ve got time. Yuuri prefers not to finalize names until they get to see and hold their children, anyway. He has the feeling that he won’t know which name is really _right_ until then.)

He and Victor are lying in bed together now, Victor’s legs swung up toward Yuuri’s head so he can cradle Yuuri’s belly and whisper to the child inside.

“I bet you’re beautiful,” he hears Victor whisper to his stomach, pressing warm kisses to the swell, stroking Yuuri’s bare skin with the scent gland at the inside of his wrist. “When you get here, we’re going to skate, and play, and laugh, and it’s going to be so much fun. You won’t know why you spent so long in there.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile, hiding his expression against Victor’s own stomach. It’s become a nightly ritual, these little talks. At first it had been more comfortable for one of them to sit on the couch while the other stood in front of them, their bellies at eye level; but it had been awkward for Yuuri, simply standing there while Victor gushed at his midriff, kissing and caressing it. But by now, both of them have grown so much that it’s much simpler for them to curl up like this, Victor resting his cheek on Yuuri’s bump like it’s a pillow, while Yuuri simply touches Victor’s stomach, feeling how firm it’s gotten. Watching the skin flutter as the baby inside Victor hiccups.

“I know I’m not good at this talking thing,” he murmurs in Japanese to Victor’s stomach now, smoothing his hand over the skin like he can calm the fetus’s hiccups. “It isn’t your fault, I promise. It’s… I don’t know what to say, that’s all.”

He shouldn’t feel so awkward doing this. Victor has become a pro at talking to both of their children; he’s currently babbling away to the little boy inside Yuuri about his day in some combination of English, French, and Russian. But even while Yuuri tries his best, he can never quite get over the feeling that he’s talking to a stranger, that his own baby might not be interested in knowing him.

He recognizes those thoughts for what they are — poisonous remnants of an old anxiety — and reminds himself that there’s no way to know they’re true, not while the baby still grows inside Victor.

 _His_ baby, inside of _Victor_.

His teenage self never could have dreamed of this miracle.

Victor’s abdomen jumps as the baby gives a particularly violent hiccup, and Yuuri finds himself shushing her, patting the globe of Victor’s stomach like he’s rubbing a watermelon.

“So excitable,” he says. “I wonder where you get that from.”

He’d said it in Japanese, but Victor still snorts, having understood.

“You, definitely,” Victor teases. He winks at Yuuri before placing a smacking kiss on his belly. He feels the heel of the baby inside him press against the spot where Victor kissed, and his heart swells.

“Kiss there again,” Yuuri says. “He’s trying to say hi.”

And god, but Victor _melts_ at that, pressing his mouth against that same spot, alternating between kisses and endearments as he tells the baby how _smart_ and _beautiful_ he is. Yuuri turns his attention back to Victor’s belly, running amazed fingertips over Victor’s newest stretch marks, over the way his navel pokes slightly out now.

Victor’s shape is changing, all because of Yuuri, and their child. It makes Yuuri’s heart feel like it’s too big to fit inside him.

He presses his forehead to Victor’s belly, overwhelmed with emotion.

“I’m no good at talking,” he whispers, still stroking Victor’s sides, feeling the way his whole abdomen quivers with every hiccup from the baby inside him. “At saying how I feel. You’re going to really learn that about me once you’re here. I hope I’m not a letdown after Victor.”

Victor, dancing around the kitchen as he sings pop songs to his stomach. Keeping up a running commentary for baby’s sake when they run errands. Patting and caressing his stomach when he feels her kick or stretch. And now, as they lie here together, Victor’s giving that same affection to the child growing inside Yuuri. He never gives either of their children room to doubt that he loves them.

Yuuri loves them both too, with every fiber of his being. More than he thought possible, for two small people he won’t even meet for several weeks. And already, he knows he’s falling short of expressing his love as profusely as Victor does every day.

He presses his lips to the skin of Victor’s belly, feeling the smooth curve.

“I love you,” he says, tightening his grip the way he’s seen Victor do. He rubs his scent gland over Victor’s pregnant belly, claiming his mate and their child. “When you get here, I’ll show you every day. Every hour. I never want there to be any doubt that I love you and your brother so, so much.”

He thinks he feels a tiny flutter of movement against his cheek, and he laughs in surprise, tears springing to his eyes. His free hand goes to his own stomach reflexively.

“There you are,” he whispers, and kisses where he thinks he’d felt the baby’s head, or knee, or foot. “Hi, Swizzle. Hi. I love you.”

The same fluttering pokes him in the nose, then his forehead. Yuuri adjusts his position so he can chase the baby’s movement with his kisses, letting her know he’s there, letting her know that he sees her, and he loves her, in the only way he currently can.

“I think she’s playing with you.” Victor sounds choked up, and Yuuri looks down to see there are tears shining in Victor’s eyes, even as he beams at the sight of Yuuri kissing and scent-marking his belly. “She’s funny like that.” Yuuri touches Victor’s hair, soothing him, and Victor takes Yuuri’s hand so he can kiss the center of his palm.

“You can tell already?” Yuuri asks. He touches his bump again, feeling the fetus lazily stretch inside him. He loves Twizzle too, of course, but wouldn’t say he knows much about his son’s personality yet. Victor must see the uncertainty on his face.

“Yours is a lot calmer.” He places his hand atop Yuuri’s, fingers filling the gaps between his. “At least, whenever I talk to him, it seems like he settles down some.”

Yuuri feels like he’s going to cry again. “He does,” he admits, and sets his other hand atop Victor’s, squeezing it between both of his. “Sometimes he hears you talking in the next room and he starts to kick a lot. But when you’re right here…” The tears spill over, and it’s Victor’s turn to shush him. He’s never noticed, until Victor pointed it out, how much the baby seems to settle down when Victor talks to him, sings to him.

“He loves you so much,” Yuuri chokes. “They both love you so much.”

“Oh, Yuuri…” Victor pushes himself up so he’s sitting, his shirt still rucked up over his stomach, and Yuuri does the same, trying to scrub away his tears. “They already love you, too. Swizzle gets so excited when you talk to her, and Twizzle is so much like you. And you take such good care of both of them, and me…” Yuuri sniffles still, and Victor reaches out to take him in his arms. It’s not as close a hug as he’d like, the roundness of their stomachs preventing them from getting too close, but Yuuri still holds on.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” he says through his tears. “I’m so, _so_ far from sad, Vityenka. It’s just…”

“It’s a lot,” Victor agrees, wiping at his own eyes. Yuuri nods.

“They’ll be here in six weeks,” he says, the date sinking in all over again. “ _Vitya_. We’re going to be _parents_. In _six weeks_.” _Or less_ , he can’t help but mentally add; there’s no way of knowing if he and Victor will make it all the way to their due date.

“We’re going to meet them so soon,” Victor breathes, and then grimaces, massaging his belly. “Yuuri, love, you’ve gotten Swizzle all worked up. She won’t stop moving around.”

“Aww,” Yuuri coos, and rests a hand on Victor’s stomach so he can feel it too. “Bedtime, little one. Time to let your Papa get his rest.”

Victor hums, putting his hands at the bottom of his stomach and swaying like he’s rocking the baby already. “There, there, Swizzle. Shhh. It’s not playtime. It’s sleepytime. Get those elbows out of my ribs.”

“Kind of an occupational hazard at this point,” Yuuri winces, sympathetically massaging his own bump; but Victor doesn’t appear to have heard, instead singing a lullaby to his stomach.

“ _Tili tili bom. Zakroy glaza skoree, kto-to hodit za oknom I stuchitsya v dveri…”_

“Victor,” Yuuri says slowly, interrupting Victor’s singing and rocking. “Are you _honestly_ singing that horrifying Russian lullaby to our daughter?”

“Our children _will_ be half-Russian.” Victor draws himself up haughtily as best he can with his bump. “They need to learn to go to sleep before the monsters come to steal them away.”

Yuuri snorts. “For goodness’ sake.” Yuuri settles back onto the bed, gesturing for Victor to lie down beside him. Their stomachs are touching like this, the babies inside them cradled protectively between their parents. “Bring her here. I’ll do it.”

Victor wriggles as close as he can, and Yuuri moves his hand over Victor’s belly in slow, rhythmic circles as he starts to sing.

“ _Nennen korori yo, okorori yo_ ,” Yuuri sings, stroking Victor’s skin. “ _Bōya wa yoi ko da, nenne shida…_ ”

He keeps his movements gentle, soothing, and Victor rests his free hand atop Yuuri’s belly as Yuuri keeps singing this childhood lullaby.

“It’s working,” Victor whispers once Yuuri’s gotten through all three verses. “She really likes you, Yuuri.”

“Good,” Yuuri says, still stroking Victor’s belly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his husband’s lips. “Because I really, really like her too.”

He resumes humming, feeling the child inside him start to settle, too, at the sound of his voice. Victor nestles closer to him, a hand on Yuuri’s belly, mimicking the way Yuuri is holding him and their daughter. The four of them, all resting together, holding each other, in this bed they call home.

Yuuri feels so warm at this moment. As though nothing could get in the way of their family loving each other, as though his family will be able to understand and accept the way he loves them even if articulating his feelings never feels easy.

He smiles, resting a hand on his stomach, and exhales.

Only six more weeks until everything changes.

**Author's Note:**

> links to the lullabies they sing their bellies are embedded in the actual fic because I'm a huge sap??? Yuuri's ("Edo no Komori Uta," if you're curious) has lyrics like "you are such a good baby" and I cry every time. Victor's is legit terrifying though. It's that horror movie Russian lullaby that made the rounds on Tumblr a few years back. 
> 
> hmu on the [twittahs](https://twitter.com/apostaroni) or the [tumblahs](http://phoenixrei.tumblr.com)??


End file.
